


A first party

by kate_the_reader



Series: The season [14]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 31 Days of Ineffables Advent Calendar Challenge 2019 (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:07:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21796570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kate_the_reader/pseuds/kate_the_reader
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley throw a party for their village neighbours
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: The season [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564690
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	A first party

The longer they live here, the more they are drawn into the life of the village. It felt odd at first, they weren’t used to it, to human friends — to any friends really. But it was hard to resist the simple kindnesses: a basket of eggs brought to the kitchen door, an invitation to a summer barbecue, friendly greetings during a morning walk, inquiries after the other if one of them goes to the village shop alone.

As Christmas nears, their second here, cards start to arrive, and invitations to parties.

“Do you think we should host one ourselves?” Aziraphale wonders after the third invitation.

“We could try,” says Crowley, doubtful. You’d think beings who have been on Earth for six thousand years would know how to throw a party, but the customs of a small village can be difficult to understand. 

“I’ll ask Marjorie.” Aziraphale has become firm friends with the woman who runs the local library housed in a corner of the village hall, having bonded over their shared passion for Georgette Heyer novels.

“Right, I'll see what Gavin has to say.” Crowley has started taking the Bentley to the local garage to have its oil changed. Not that it ever needed it before, but Gavin had been eager to get a look under the bonnet and it would have been churlish to pretend he was taking it elsewhere, to an anonymous mechanic in town. These are the ways you are bound to a place and find you have friends, without consciously trying.

“Marjorie says we could invite a few people for drinks after carolling,” Aziraphale reports.

“Funny, Gavin had the same idea. I wouldn’t have thought they would be friends. But what do we know.”

So they return invitations to those who have invited them, extend a welcome to all the carollers, and add in Jean, the owner of the egg-laying hens, and Chris, the lad who helps out in the pub in the summer months. 

“That’s probably enough,” says Aziraphale. 

“Yeah, the sitting room’s not really big enough for more than that.”

“We should start small, for our first party.”

“Not sure 20 is that small.”

“What are we going to serve?”

“Wine, Scotch?”

“Yes, of course, but … nibbles.”

“Nibbles? You’re having me on, angel.”

They’re learning to cook. They have time, and a lack of local restaurant options. And it’s surprisingly interesting.

“Crowley! Nibbles, little things to eat with drinks.”

“Oh. Right.”

Aziraphale consults one of his (rather out of date) cookbooks. “There’s devilled eggs.” He snickers. “Devils on horseback.”

Crowley is googling. “Angels on horseback. See here, it’s oysters wrapped in bacon. Oysters, angel.”

“Tempting,” says Aziraphale, his eyes sparkling. “Very tempting.”

“Why on horseback, d’you suppose. Whoever invented these never met either of us.”

They’re sitting close together on the sofa giggling themselves silly.

“Party planning is more fun than I expected,” says Aziraphale, and Crowley turns fully to him, takes his face between both of his hands and kisses him.

“Everything is more fun with you,” he says. “But no devilled eggs, please.”

“Alright, both horseback ones then.”

All three of the other parties are fun, their neighbours’ houses all a-sparkle with lights and decorations. At the third, there are a couple they’ve not met before. To the inevitable: “How did you two meet?” Crowley replies: “We’ve known each other forever.”

“Childhood sweethearts,” Penny sighs, “How romantic.”

As they drive home, Aziraphale says: “Did I ever tell you, Marjorie says the consensus when we arrived was that you were a rock star and I your manager?”

“It’s the glasses.” He’s quiet a moment. “I wish I didn’t have to.”

“We don’t know anyone well enough yet.”

“Will we ever, though?”

“People are surprisingly broad-minded, don’t you think? No one has ever batted an eyelash at us.”

Crowley laughs: “Not even when I was a washed-up and no doubt drug-addled rock star.”

Their own party goes off well, although beings on horseback are surprisingly fiddly and time-consuming to make. The non-carollers all join in with the carollers, Aziraphale’s lovely voice rising above the others. Crowley makes sure to stand in the shadows, and brushes away a tear.

This time last year, they knew no one here, and now look at them.

The next morning, while washing the glasses and plates, Crowley suddenly remembers the eggnog he had been planning to make, before those beings on horseback took up so much time.

“Nevermind,” says Aziraphale, “you can make it next year.”

_Prompt: eggnog_


End file.
